Some call it a sin, some, including me, think it as hope… hope for unity, for a future. To me it’s a part of my religion, a religion we all don’t know.

I’m quite the stubborn type and can’t ever accept without reason. God’s different. It’s not his powers, but the power of him. I can’t describe it. All I can describe is what I feel.
Silence echo’s against a pane of stained glass to the midst of the mountains. I’m forced to clear my mind. To hide my intimidated truth, I fake a face of attitude. Hearing the sounds of the sacred baritone from a lifetime I don’t remember plays with my mind.
Walking between the planks of woods, feeling the friction of wax on the very ends of my yearning fingers. A deep nudge breaks my gazing. She probably didn’t feel the same as me. Her eyes, half open, gaze to our destination. I followed her eyes.
Bedazzled! Delicate designs painted on the glass, stained my eyes.
She dropped a coin. I heard the clunk and felt like donating my life into the small box. A light flickered and shone, enlightening for itself as it was for me. First time I saw an electric light controlled by a drop of a coin.
I sat down and felt the warm wax throughout my body. She sat beside me, blocking my vision of the virgins crying eyes. Her silence freaked me out. Never heard it. She wasn’t the god type, nor was she Satan. May be she felt the same as I did. May be god had an affect on her regardless of her strong disbelief. She had been here before no doubt. Otherwise I wouldn’t know what to do after the step beyond the door.
I wanted to give myself to the altar.
Although I was on my two feet again retracing my finger prints, my knees had lost support and I felt the slavery of god’s son, dragging on my feet. A calling… and I will return.
The icy air concealed my cheeks, once again, but this time a little bit holier and a whiff of palm greens creep around me.

I wasn’t afraid to go to a different place of worship than of my own. It felt welcoming and I did benefit, just as I would in a temple. From all the chaos and hatred in my world, I needed a minute of silence. And I was given that… right now I’m grateful for being given the chance to express this on paper, black and white. It really let’s me sort out a hundred thoughts to the ones that make sense to the world.
Weird, I am saying this, but I find quite some difficulty to express to people what I mean in a language they’ll understand.

As I turn around and walked away I heard the hallucinated Gregorian tunes into the rhythmic beat of the drums and the intoxicating electricity of six strings. She walked into the life sucking sound, hypnotized, through her imperfect, deep, ghostly eyes. Once more, I took a glance over my shoulder. I remember closing my eyes, just to captivate the feeling… wasn’t the same. Maybe it was too late. Then, I myself stepped into the darkness, the black sound of reality. The sigh of misery us humans die in. I was hopeless.
I’m not saying I felt all this in a split second of thought but that’s what my mind created out of that experience. That’s what I mean about the power of god but not the power itself.
Yes, I’m not the ‘normalest’ of people and I’m sure everyone that knows me, knows that I’m the strange type. It’s true, fourteen year olds’ don’t think about these angles in life. That’s why it meant so much.
The other times I had been there was for Christmas or Easter, just for the sake of experiencing a different culture. But to be there for the mere reason of nothing, sort of gave that extra effort and I got back an extra feeling. Going to the temple is something I do very rarely. Last time I went was once last year. I sound like a bad devotee. Truth is the religion that I truly follow is humanity. I’m not even a strong follower of that. I’m not perfect. But it’s far harder to follow such a vast religion with no set rules to guide you but your conscious. This probably is the place of my deepest thoughts…


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